


An Alternative to Altruism

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auto-Responder | Lil Hal and Dirk Strider are Twins, Bondage, Gags, Hal and Dirk don't actually fuck, Jake English Sandwich, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 10:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: You and Hal share many things, part and parcel of being twins. Of course, sharing Jake wasn't what you'dplannedon, but turning up another chance at that piece of ass? You'd have to be an absolute idiot to give that up, no matter the strings attached, and your triple degree (with honors) proves that you are definitely not that.





	An Alternative to Altruism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JE_Lea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JE_Lea/gifts).



> "Dirk/Hal and either/or Dave or Jake. Preference for mature/explicit. If uncomfortable with stridercest, can be cute/fluff/pale too.  
> Movie night. Can be AU (Dirk/Hal as twins, for instance).
> 
> For explicit with Jake: Hal getting jumped and bottoming for once. Hal subbing is optional."
> 
>  
> 
> this is my first time writing Hal and I hope I did him justice, at least via Dirk's incredibly pissy descriptions

Your machinations are only of the highest, most altruistic sort. Only room for high quality, homegrown, benevolent shenanigans in this household. Seriously. You've got rules.

Of course, these rules go right out the window when it comes to dealing with Hal. Halifax Bernadette Strider is a law unto himself and you only really have room for rules in your life. Not that you're saying this sets your beloved twin up as something you need to _break_ (it's really more the world that's been doing that for you), but there is a strong possibility that it makes him a pain in the goddamn ass to wrangle, and an even bigger one to deal with, when it comes to the nitty gritty of everyday life.

Like dating. You can't even have a goddamn civil-ish, not-quite-break-up-because-we-keep-flirting ex-relationship with him around, inviting Jake over for movies, challenging you to seduction contests, and other sundry idiotic shit.

It's like he doesn't even _get_  it, except you _know_  that he definitely does.

Basically, he's just an asshole, which you could relate to if it hadn't been in a completely different direction from your own asshole tendencies.

Anyway.

Jake.

 

Jake English is quite possibly the hottest guy you know that's not related to you. He's almost definitely the hottest guy on your campus (there is in fact scientific data to back up your claim), and you have reason to believe that he might be the hottest guy you'll ever meet. You and Hal aside, of course, but that's just facts. Jake English is also your sort-of-ex and definite best friend (to a degree, because you have a total of three best friends), which makes this even more kinds of awkward, this being the fact that Halifax has orchestrated a date night and somehow worked you— _you_ , of all people—into playing along with his stupid bet.

Your twin brother, on occasion, has absolutely brilliant ideas. Unfortunately for you, and also for him, and even for poor Jake, who's going to be dragged into this abominably fine ass over teakettle, this is not one of them.

After all, Hal challenging you to see who can seduce sweet, unsuspecting, _oblivious_ Jake the fastest is nothing less than a recipe for disaster.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, and you're only sort of reconsidering your assumptions. For one, Hal _did_  set up the perfect spread. All of Jake's favorites are well-represented, and the movie he picked, while nothing short of a cinematic mystery, is right up Jake's alley. Literally. It's _Avatar_ , the blue people one that actually exists and isn't meant to be forever unnamed, and Jake is kind of depressingly into it.

So into it, in fact, that he doesn't even notice the way Hal's leaning into his side, or the way your head is resting on your shoulder. No, he's got a companionable arm around Hal, and one of his be-socked feet is tapping a merry little tune on your thigh, and this isn't doing anything for your seduction abilities other than applying lust directly to the boner.

God, how on earth is this guy the most sexually attractive person you know? _Fuck_. He's dumber than a sack of bricks on a personal/emotional level, and that's really saying something, coming from you. You're absolutely fucking amazing at setting all the chips up to fall exactly where you want them to, then letting people believe that you've just let them fall where they may, but _getting_  shit, that's a tricky little territory all its own. You don't _get_  shit, but the amount that Jake English Does Not Get Shit is on a whole other level.

And once more, mentally rambling about Jake English has reduced you to being a senseless fool. Hal's already made a move, snuggled up his face against Jake's neck during a "scary" part, and he's leaving you behind. For now, at least, and "for now" won't last "for long" because your hand's just landed on Jake's thigh, a "necessary" and "innocent" maneuver as you shift yourself up higher onto the couch. Jake gives you a comforting smile, like he isn't just covered in bitches all over his stupid, manly dick, and turns back to watching the movie without batting so much as an eyelash.

You think you might kind of hate him, as much as you want him to wreck your ass.

...

 _Fuck_ , he's not even _hard._

 

* * *

 

Another hour of interminable sexual confusion passes, and all three of you are now shirtless. Jake's strict rules on _conversating during the grandest moments of cinematic theater, chaps!_  meant that the primary Strider Method of Seduction was unavailable to the both of you until the show had either been paused or reached its ultimate conclusion.

After a solid two hours and forty-two minutes of watching, you're not even sure if you actually saw the movie, or if it's merely an illusion, soon to be as lost in the wayward drifts of your subconscious mind as it is in the collective realm of things forgotten by the general public. You're already thinking up alternative taglines. Top of the list is _Avatar—it's not a movie. It's an experience._

You're pretty sure you could sell that. _Someone_  would buy it. Maybe it would even be the fucking gorgeous idiot right next to you.

"Anyone thirsty? I'm absitively posolutley parched!" How the _fuck_  is this guy the wizard that cursed your dick. "Dirk? Hal?"

"I could go for a sip of something, yeah," your twin says. It's funny how eminently punchable that smirk is on him, and how sexy it is on you. "And I'm reasonably sure that Dirk is absolutely thirsty as fuck."

Eyes: Closed. Breathing: Deep. Patience: YEET.

Your common sense is forcibly removed from your body, and you open your eyes to give Halifax Bernadette Strider a sugar sweet smile. "Definitely. How about you and Jake grab some sodas? Orange for me."

"You're weird, dude," he tells you. Meanwhile, you can see the _what the fuck are you up to_  running underneath the surface of his cucumber-esque demeanor. Idiot. "Jake, you in? I'll show you where we keep the...what the fuck was it, sarsaparilla? That sounds like a disease."

"Hah! I suppose the name is a little curious, but—" The blessed shift in acoustics cuts the sound of both of their voices off, and you are left blissfully alone with your thoughts a moment longer. Fellas, is it gay and narcissistic to think that watching your sort-of-ex get railed by someone who looks exactly like you would be hot? You're gonna go with yes, because you obviously need more fucked up shit to add to your latest list. Rose can have a field day analyzing your idiot brain or something, it'll be like an early half-birthday gift for her.

 

So there are a downsides to being a little bit...wrapped up in your own head. That's what you're gonna call it. It's totally not a gay, narcissistic fantasy of getting lost in your own goddamn head and thoughts and so on, so forth, etcetera ad infinitum. Besides, Jake and Hal are there in said fantasy, so it's...anyway. There are downsides, you get distracted, things...well, the things, they happen.

Like getting a kind of sensory overload from all the imagined stimulus, like getting so into your own thoughts and, consequently, worked up by them that you end up palming yourself, like being so overwhelmed by _that_  that you're basically rutting into your hand pathetically when Jake and Hal walk back into the room.

You don't notice them at first. It's not because you're _that_  distracted (or at least, it's not completely because of that) so much as it's because they both apparently stop dead still, just...watching you, work over yourself and get into it, and you don't realize this until someone—you're not sure who—makes a strangled little noise, and your eyes fly open, and _oh fuck you have a goddamn audience_. Fuck, fucking hell, you're supposed to be _better_  than this.

"Dirk, what the _fuck_ ," Hal says, and oh, hey, looks like you're _not_  the only narcissist around, because that's definitely a boner he's sporting. It matches Jakes, and you swallow hard, watching the both of them watch you. God, you're gonna end up with a fucking _complex_ and you haven't even finished your PhD. "Didn't get enough time to whack it in the shower? Or did you take 'thirsty' a little too literally?"

"I would go so far as to wager that he perhaps got a little _too_  into the game you two have been playing?" Oh, _shit_. What the fuck?

"What the fuck," you say, at the exact same time as Hal. It's a thing. You both know Jake's into it, and his grin spreads all the wider to prove you right.

"Really, now, I might be a bit dense from time to time, but a chap would have to be rather simple not to realize that the both of you were coming onto him at once!" Neither of you are going to inform him of what pretty much everyone in the friend group has been assuming for the last several years. Not even if you have several data points and literal reams of proof. "Care to spare me an explanation as to why, or have I already won the prize for figuring it out?"

"Uh," you say, and Hal follows it with "Shit."

"We, uh," you try again, feeling just a little bit _wary_  as you look between your twin and Jake, trying to figure out exactly what's going on and how good or bad it might be for you. "We didn't really have a prize planned for _you_ —"

"No? Pity, that," he says, looking fairly disappointed. When his expression brightens again, Hal's darkens the slightest bit, and you have a feeling that the both of you are on your own. "I'll have to make my own fun, then!"

Oh, _shit_.

 

* * *

 

Jake establishes his idea of "making his own fun" in fewer seconds than it takes him to scarf down a slice of cake. You had never thought that English could be so decisive about...well... _anything._  He's kind of pathetically easy to steer, to the point that he's practically _asking_  you to guide him into doing whatever it is you want him to do, in such a way that it makes you feel a little bad because it was so easy, but not in the least bit guilty because...well...he'd be a fucking train wreck without it. Without you.

Only now you're wondering what the fuck kind of juice he's been drinking since the breakup because Hal is trussed up like a prize pig and also gagged, and _also_  on his knees and spitting mad as Jake lubes his asshole wide open.

Dammit. You _knew_ this would be hot.

You yourself are occupied with working _Jake_  up, one hand on his cock and the other almost entirely up his ass as you get him ready in turn. Jake is an asshole, and you have already accepted your fate, which, apparently, is that Jake English is trying to turn you into a service top as a "punishment" for engaging in a "contest of seduction".

This is Hal's fault. A hundred percent completely Hal's fault. You are very, _very_  aware of it, and as soon as you possibly can, you are planning to make him pay. Unfortunately, before you can actually exact any kind of vengeance upon your twin, you have to figure out exactly how to rail Jake English's hunky ass to the complete and utter satisfaction of this ridiculously sexy man. If you _don't_  pull it off, it's as good as losing to Hal.

Again.

Not that there were any other competitions going on, though. Nope. And even if there was, you weren't going to consider it, what with Jake English being himself _right fucking there next to you_. He has a way of figuring out things that you never expected and are only just now learning to account for.

It's a whole new paradigm, and you almost kind of wish you weren't engaged in a mildly depraved three way sex act that you've been fantasizing about, because you would _really_  enjoy taking some time to think about it and possibly a little more mental freedom to make further plans for what this might do for you, for Jake, for the whole situation—

"A _hem_."

Your face burns, when you realize that you've already gotten Jake well worked open, that Hal is basically straining at the ropes for _some_  kind of stimulation, and that the two of them are waiting on you to finish up. "Uh. I think you're ready to go, bro."

 _Yeah no shit_ , Hal says with a roll of his eyes, and you flip him off, ignoring the lube that drips down the your thoroughly used digits.

"Come on then, gentlemen," says Jake, "Debauchery waits for no man!"

You can't believe you're actually going to fuck this guy. You're pretty sure you slipped into some kind of fugue state along the way that explains your complete idiocy, the fact that you've barely been able to keep up with everything that's happening, maybe even _why_  you're agreeing to this shit in the first place. You don't know, and it is getting _increasingly_  hard to care, what with Jake's plush rump waving enticingly in front of your face. Jake English wants you to _fuck his ass_ , and you are nowhere near strong enough of a man to deny him.

Besides, he's already balls deep inside of Hal, who's moaning like the squirmy little sub he _definitely_  isn't (unless he is, in which case, you two are going to need to have a _serious_  heart to heart), and you can't _not_  fuck him.

With absolutely no other options left to you, you grab Jake's hips and shove your way in. The feeling of him is overwhelmingly luxurious, just as you remember it to be, and one of your old thoughts from so long ago surfaces: This ass should be in a  _museum_. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for the _National Treasure_  series, it's not; it's right here and available to you whenever you like, and you bite down on Jake's shoulder to hide any shudder or moan that might threaten to spill its way out of you. You _really_  don't like being on display for someone when you're supposed to be rawing them; it feels like a total violation of the social norms you've constructed inside your head.

Which is probably yet another thing for Rose to analyze you on. Oh, fuck, Jake's moaning.

 

Every thrust you make forces Jake deeper into Hal, and it's like watching a mirror—Hal, with your exact face, even if the expressions differ slightly, absolutely unable to shut his mouth or twist away—no, maybe it's like watching yourself stripped down to the barest elements, fighting it all the way. It's incredibly hot, incredibly overwhelming, and you'd have more questions if you weren't so busy pounding into Jake's ass, one hand on his hip, and the other somehow— _somehow_ —finding its way to Hal's. You feel Jake tighten up, maybe in surprise, maybe in further arousal? You don't get a chance to explore the train of thought further, because he turns back, one arm over your shoulder as he kisses you.

It's sloppy and wet, his teeth scraping your lip, your tongue running over his, and it's so goddamn sexy you nearly forget to thrust—then Hal whines, Jake tightens, and you find yourself bucking into him even harder. "Kiss him," Jake says, breathless against your mouth. "Dirk, you have to—"

You don't even think. You don't even question it, him, yourself—you release Hal's hip, tangle a hand into his soft hair, and yank him in for a desperate kiss.

Between you and a little off to the side, you can practically feel the heat of Jake's regard as you lick into Hal's mouth, taking advantage of how utterly unable he is to formulate any kind of response. More than that, you can feel Hal's hips grinding down on Jake's dick as best as they can, as his bound thigh bumps against your side, and Jake, tightening up around you as he moans in response.

You're dimly aware of Jake asking Hal a question—a check-in, you think, Jake's always been big on communication during sex—and Hal kicks your side twice. "Two," you tell Jake, pulling reluctantly back.  "That good?"

"Keep going," Jake says, the green in his eyes at least five shades brighter than you're used to, and you're more than happy to oblige. He's incredibly limber, a surprise (to you, at least) that you're eager to take advantage of at some later date, and you shudder when he rolls back against you, forward into Hal, when he—oh, _fuck_.

Jake's hand wraps around Hal's dick, jerking him off in quick, efficient strokes, just the way you know he likes, and before long Hal's arching back against the bed Jake put him on, shooting hot come all across your chest and hips and Jake's besides. It's _almost_  too much, pushing you right up to the edge, and you _know_  you would go over if it weren't for the strength of your self control.

That, and, you really do _not_  want to lose, because losing means this _ends_.

You shift position, aiming to fuck Jake hard enough that Hal might come again (you _know_  he can, you know it's possible), and Jake responds in kind, ramming into Hal's prostate at an unforgiving pace. Without you to muffle the noises, his gag leaves him helpless to hide every little sound, and Jake seems to delight in working them out of him, one thrust at a time. Another roll of his hips sends him deeper into Hal, another rock of it has him entirely wrapped around you; you are in a certain kind of heaven that you are _reasonably_  sure is close cousin to hell.

"Come on, lovelies," Jake murmurs, his voice almost a coo, and his hand wraps around Hal again. The second time your twin comes, it's almost strained and exceedingly lovely, a beautiful sort of display that sets off Jake and brings on your own—Jake pulls out, just in time to spill all over Hal's dick, his stomach and chest, even as far as his face, and you press deeper in, coming so hard inside Jake's ass that your mind actually goes _quiet_.

 

You've got a feeling that after this, Hal's going to make movie nights a regular thing. Fucking bastard. You've gotta come up with a way to distract him from making all these stupid, idiotic, incredibly sexy plans.


End file.
